A Christmas Worth Remembering
by Coporeal Cat
Summary: Miles Edgeworth finds himself trapped in L.A. for the holidays and involuntarily roped into Maya Fey's 'Secret Santa Gift Exchange'. Phoenix, our clueless love interest, remains, as usual, clueless. Hilarity/chaos/romance ensues.
1. A Friendly Chat, That's All

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, none of this belongs to me. Feenie, Edgey, Maya, Pearls, Gumshoe, and Laurice all belong to the god that is Capcom.

This is my very first fanfiction, and I'd love to get some feedback though it's not completely finished. As they say: R&R, please!

--

**Monday, December 23, 20XX**

RINGA-LINGA-LING!

Phoenix Wright wrinkled his nose, snorting in his sleep.

RINGA-LINGA-LING!

Half-conscious now, he attempted in vain to swat the cell phone from his bedside table. It was a miserable failure.

RINGA-LINGA-LING!

"_Fine_." He muttered angrily, sitting up and blinking stupidly into the dark that enveloped his bedroom. Grumbling, he felt around for the blinking contraption and stared at the screen. The incoming call was an unknown number. Angrily flipping open the phone, he nearly shouted into the receiver.

"What?!"

A diffident voice, familiar yet foreign, spoke his name on the other line. "…Wright?"

Phoenix recognized the caller instantly. "Edgeworth?!"

There was an uncomfortable pause before the prosecutor broke the silence.

"…Yes." Another suspension, then the voice continued. "Wright, I need to talk to you. I know you're on vacation-"

"Damn straight."

"…I _know_ you're on vacation, but I need to speak with you."

"Um…aren't we speaking right now?" He furrowed his brow in confusion, still somewhat muddled.

"_In person_, Wright."

"Oh."

"Wright, were you sleeping?"

"Yeah."

"It's two in the afternoon, Wright."

"I'm on vacation!" Phoenix thundered into the phone, rubbing his eyelids. "I'll do what I want to on my days off!"

A sigh sounded from the other side of the line.

"Point taken. Can we talk, please?"

It was the please that caught his attention. Miles Edgeworth had never used the word 'please' in any sentence having to do with Phoenix before. Suddenly wide awake, he replied quickly.

"Yeah, sure. Where and when?"

"The café by the park. As soon as possible."

"Like…twenty minutes?"

"It'll do. Good-"

"Hey, wait a minute! How'd you get my number?"

"I asked Ms. Fey. It was a matter of utmost importance. The café by the park, twenty minutes. _Be there_, Wright. Goodbye."

There was a click, and Phoenix stared blankly at his cell phone for a moment. Had that conversation actually happened? Did Miles Edgeworth need to speak with him that desperately? Giving a resigned shrug to no one in particular, Phoenix slid out of bed, took a brief shower and got dressed quickly, not bothering for his usual impeccable attire. Ties were severely overrated, anyway. The only people who thought they looked good had obviously never worn them for a full twenty-four hours straight. Throwing a scarf carelessly around his neck - it was winter, after all - Phoenix left his apartment.

Around twenty-five minutes later, Wright sauntered leisurely into the café. A red-hot car was parked just outside - Edgeworth was always on time. Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Phoenix meandered aimlessly to the hostess, inquiring as to the whereabouts of a man in a pink suit. Miles had claimed it was _fuchsia_, but it was pink. So blatantly, painfully pink. The woman gestured to a small table under the veranda, and the ace attorney made his way past several other customers before reaching the infamous Miles Edgeworth.

The prosecutor was fastidiously dressed as per usual, his cravat neatly-tied, his shirt stiff-collared, his shoes well-polished. A coal-black winter overcoat completed the ensemble. Phoenix, on the other hand, was the definition of negligence. He was unshaven with creased clothes and unkempt hair. He hadn't had enough time to use gel.

Without looking at his visitor, Miles indicated that he take the seat opposite him. Relaxing into the chair, Phoenix peered expectantly at the man across from him. There was no immediate response - Edgeworth was absorbed in the Monday paper with his usual air of aplomb. There was a loud crinkling sound, and the prosecutor folded his news to look up at Phoenix. His expression was that of surprise.

"What the hell happened to your hair?"

Phoenix pulled at one of the dark, wet strands, inspecting it. "What do you mean?"

"It's usually…spiky, and almost ironed-back."

"I use gel."

"Ah."

An awkward silence.

Edgeworth shook his head, setting his newspaper aside and glancing at his wristwatch. "And you're late, as usual. Our appointment was for 2:20, not 2:30."

"Well, ex_cuse_ me. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I've only just arrived, as you can see," He picked up a small china cup of hot tea - it was full - and delicately took a sip before replacing it.

"In that case, I don't feel so bad, if you've only just…"

"It's different with me. I don't like waiting; I've no time to waste. And as you're never on time, I come late on purpose - at a time when I presume you'll be there."

Phoenix frowned slightly - he hadn't expected reproach. Wasn't this meeting supposed to be about something important?

"Why are we out here anyway? It's freezing. You could have at least gotten a table _inside_ the café. I think my hair is going to ice over." The chill was wreaking havoc on his Southern Californian weather preferences.

"I find the air rather bracing this time of year," Miles responded casually, taking a moment to steeple his fingers on the table. His eyebrows drew together in a tight 'v'.

"…Your hair _is_ all over the place." Edgeworth pointed out, and Wright unsuccessfully ran his fingers through it. "Here, here's a comb." Miles pulled a comb from his pocket, holding it out. He looked exasperated.

"Thank you…" Phoenix replied, vaguely pulling it through his hair.

"You haven't even shaved! Look at you!"

Giving up with a huff, Phoenix tossed the comb back across the table. "It's not my fault you always look so immaculate."

Edgeworth continued his inspection of Wright, criticism unabated.

"Your clothes are all crumpled, they're a disgrace! Your shirt is downright filthy, and your shoes…"

Phoenix tried to hide his feet beneath the table. His efforts were to no avail.

"Your shoes haven't been touched. What a mess you're in. And look at your shoulders…"

"What's the matter with my shoulders?"

Edgeworth reached over the small table languidly, brushing a fine white powder from Phoenix's jacket. The dark-haired man flinched involuntarily - this seemed to amuse his fair-haired opponent, who added,

"You've got dust all over them. How did that happen? I'm ashamed to be seen in public with you."

"Then why the hell am I here, Edgeworth?"

"Because I needed to speak with you. Really, Wright. You're not even wearing a tie."

"When I do, at least it's not a frilly Victorian cravat."

"It's called a jabot, Wright."

"Whatever. Just get on with it. You said it was a matter of 'utmost importance'."

Miles Edgeworth went silent, and his reply was hardly audible. "…It is."

Phoenix Wright grimaced, rolling his eyes. This was wasting valuable sleep for him. It was Christmas break, anyway. Edgeworth was a workaholic, a machine. The man never rested. For a moment, Phoenix felt something akin to concern for his coworker. However, the feeling was quickly stifled by the irritation that he had been woken up for nothing. He prodded Edgeworth again.

"Well…?"

Miles looked up again, a startling weakness in his eyes. Taken aback by the pitiable expression, Phoenix could only blink. Clearing his throat, Edgeworth hurriedly spat out his question.

"What do you like?"

Dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open, Phoenix gaped. "Wait, _what_?"

"I _said_, what do you like?"

"Huh?"

"What are your _interests_?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Just answer the damn question, Wright."

"Uh…" He thought for a moment, nothing in particular coming to mind. Why was Edgeworth asking him this, anyway? After a few moments, a couple coherent words drifted into his mind. "I like…Steel Samurai, I _guess_ - Maya introduced me to it, and it's not _too_ bad."

Miles' mouth twitched. "Go on."

"Coffee, but only early in the mornings and late in the evenings. Hm. The color blue. Yes, blue is a good color." He paused, pursing his lips. "I like Maya and Pearls. Larry…sometimes. Depends on what model he's dating. Ramen is good, too. Miso bowls with pork. Grape juice, and lots of it. That's one of my favourites…Cheeseburgers. I like finding contradictions in testimonies. Playing the piano, albeit I do so badly. I like y- I mean, _fighting_ against you in court…"

He drifted off quietly, mumbling to himself a little. Phoenix was rambling now. Edgeworth raised an eyebrow skeptically, a slight smirk making its way onto his face. Wright suddenly became suspicious.

"Hold it - Is _this_ the matter of utmost importance that you were referring to earlier?"

"This isn't court, Wright. There won't be any cross-examinations here."

"That isn't fair," Phoenix protested, looking agitated. What exactly had he told Edgeworth? Nothing too valuable, really. Just what and who he liked, right?

"All's fair in love and war."

"But this is neither!" Was it really? "Well I'm leaving, then, if you haven't got any other weird questions for me," He stood defiantly, palms flat on the table. Edgeworth stood as well, grabbing Phoenix's arm just as he turned away. Astonished at the gesture, Phoenix looked down at his wrist. He felt the blood rising in his cheeks. Why was he blushing? Miles must have noticed, because he released the other quickly, stepping back a pace. "Yes…that's all. Thank you for meeting with me, Wright." He sat slowly, reaching over for his newspaper. A quizzical look upon his visage, Phoenix turned and left, trying desperately not to look back.


	2. The Nature of Maya Fey

Miles sighed wearily. Phoenix's expression had been utterly priceless. And that sweet blush that had crept across his cheeks re-played in the prosecutor's mind over and over and over again. It was like a broken record he couldn't remove from the phonograph of his thoughts. He turned back to the stocks on the newsprint, driving away tantalizing notions of Wright in compromising positions. Well, it _was_ Christmastime. He might as well make it a Christmas worth remembering.

Phoenix Wright only found solace when he arrived at his apartment. Leaning back against his door as if to barricade it, he inhaled deeply and felt the oxygen rush back into his head. He realized that he hadn't been breathing very well after his departure from that innocent little café. Innocent indeed - The pristine tablecloths may have been guiltless, and maybe the chinaware and the other patrons…and the hostess…and the servers…but Miles Edgeworth was not. The man oozed confidence and self-sureness. Practically the anti-Christ to Phoenix's Savior in the courtroom, the King of Prosecutors never hesitated to tear Wright apart with no regard whatsoever.

Frowning slightly, the defense attorney pulled the scarf from around his neck and tossed it onto the nearby sofa. Pushing himself away from the apartment door, he meandered slowly to the kitchenette, quite prepared to fix a late breakfast. After spending a little while rummaging through his sadly-depleted pantry, he re-emerged from the cupboards with a cereal box in one hand and a chipped bowl in the other. Sniffing lightly, he poured the Rice Krispies and turned to the refrigerator. Once the door was open, he realized too late that he needed to go grocery shopping. There was no milk. Reasonably disappointed in the fact that his Rice Krispies would not be performing their traditional Snap, Crackle, and Pop routine, Phoenix pouted and sluggishly fell onto his couch, scattering krispies hither and yon.

He ignored the mess, feeling around for a remote control. When he got a hand on it, he flicked on the television. He needed a distraction. The first channel was the news. Not very new news, it entailed the latest case that he himself had participated in, and had unfortunately lost to 'the stoic and talented young Prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth'. Harrumphing, Phoenix channel-surfed. There was a gardening show, which he found mind-bogglingly dull. Afternoon television was hardly stimulating.

He watched an HBO special of "Pride and Prejudice" for a while, but changed the channel when he noticed that one of the main characters was wearing a frilly cravat. The cooking show was definitely a no - they always made him hungry and reminded him of how Maya tended to eat him out of house and home whenever she graced his apartment with her jubilant presence. The attorney was adequately prepared to turn off his source of entertainment when he came to a sports channel with a professional kick-boxing tournament. Vaguely interested, Phoenix sat up a little, setting the remote aside and picking through his dry cereal with his fingers. He had never watched a kick-boxing match before; they were just introducing the fighters, too.

The announcer's booming voice heralded the contender in the right corner: "In the green shorts, weighing in at one-hundred-and-forty-nine pounds, is the hurricane from Brazil: Inigo Jalisco!" He was a short, tanned man with blonde hair who was ridiculously built. Phoenix sniggered, "Steroids, much?" Before turning his attention back to the second challenger: "In the left corner, wearing the maroon trunks is our current reigning champion from Ireland, Kirk O'Malley!" The other man was taller with pale skin, a firmly-set jaw, and intense eyes. It was the colour of the shorts that got Phoenix, though. They weren't maroon. They were _magenta_.

Grimacing, he quickly changed the channel one last time. It was a show he hadn't watched in years: "Frasier". Well, it would do. The accents were highly entertaining, anyway. Just as the opening credits fazed into the first scene, Phoenix realized with horror that Frasier's brother was named _Niles_. That was far too close for comfort. Huffing angrily, he groped for the remote and knocked over his bowl of cereal in the process. Rice Krispies flew madly in every direction. As soon as he got the television off, he sighed wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His head hurt. He kept thinking about _him_.

Miles Edgeworth's characteristic smirk drifted through his mind, and in vain did Phoenix try to brush it away. What was wrong with him? He _loathed_ that smug little look of triumph. He hated nearly everything about the prosecutor. At least, he did now. Not back then, though. Back then, things had been different. They had only been children. Back then, no dream was impossible. Back then, they had been friends.

Sort of, anyway.

After all, Edgeworth had been the one who inspired Phoenix to become a defense attorney, though in an indirect way. Wright sat back, leaning against the reassuring support of his battered sofa. Things had been so different back then…

"_Come on, Larry!" Phoenix hissed to his friend, hefting the water balloons in each hand to test their weight. "Hurry up and fill yours so we can sneak up on him!"_

Phoenix grinned to himself, shutting his eyes. His hair hadn't required so much time when he was younger. It had been naturally spiky back then.

_Larry Butz hurriedly tied off his last balloon and laboriously shoved it into his pocket. Giving a broad grin and a thumbs-up to his partner in crime, he whispered back, "Okay, let's go! Miles ought to be around here somewhere - I heard he takes flute lessons from the orchestra teacher after school. It's almost four o'clock, and-"_

"_Well, what are we waiting for?" Phoenix demanded, his young face alight with mischievous, unadulterated glee. The pair hurried off to the side of the building and peered stealthily around the corner._

"_You got your water gun?" Larry asked, nodding to the bulging pocket on the left side of his comrade's pants._

_Phoenix nodded gravely, "He's not gonna forget this anytime soon."_

"_Well, he deserves it. He ratted us out for putting one of the biology frogs in the cafeteria, the goody-two-shoes."_

"_No kidding," Phoenix grumbled in response, biting his lower lip and risking another peek around the corner of the building. Miles was there, speaking with his flute instructor. He wore a matching vest-and-trousers combination, the colour quite vivid._

Wright snickered, his smiled growing wider. He had forgotten that Edgeworth had always worn that silly pink hue.

_The older man then left young Miles Edgeworth to walk home, and the boy stood solidly for a minute or two._

_Larry mumbled grumpily from behind Phoenix. "Can we hurry this up? Mom wants me home soon…" Sending a glare at his friend, the dark-haired boy jerked his head. It was the signal. The two of them leapt out of the shadows, triumphant smiles on their faces, shouting "BANZAI!" at the top of their lungs. Miles Edgeworth looked up just in time to witness four red orbs flying towards him. _

_Grey eyes widening in fear and surprise, he twisted slightly, dropping his flute case. Only one water balloon hit him, but that was enough. The boy was completely drenched and left gaping down at his soaked uniform as the other bombs hit the ground with resounding splatters. Now sans ammunition, Phoenix Wright and Larry Butz collapsed onto the concrete, laughing hysterically. Positively stunned, poor little Miles grew distressed and his face began to turn red, and - _

RINGA-LINGA-LING!

Phoenix jerked upright, rubbing his forehead. He had so been enjoying his reverie until that damned phone…

RINGA-LINGA-LING!

Particularly irritated now that he had been woken up a second time, the dark-haired man dug around in his pockets for the stupid little thing. Without even looking at the phone he answered it. Somehow he knew who it was.

"Damn it, Edgeworth, if you don't stop calling me, I swear to God I'll - "

"Uh, Nick? It's Maya."

So he was wrong.

"Oh. Eheh…sorry."

"Has Mr. Edgeworth been calling you?" She sounded curious. _Too_ curious.

"No. Yes. Just once - well, thanks to _you_, anyway. You gave him my phone number. What for?"

"What are you talking about, Nick? _I_ didn't give him your number."

There was a long silence, and Phoenix broke it hesitantly. "You haven't been channeling Mia lately, have you?"

"Yeah! Just yesterday - how did you know, Nick?"

"A hunch. Was there anyone there with you at the time?"

"Of course, Nick! I can't talk with her myself when I'm channeling her. Mr. Edgeworth was. He wanted to go over a few of Mia's old cases and needed her help, so I helped him!"

Phoenix was silent for a long time.

"Nick, are you alright?"

Clearing his throat, he replied hoarsely, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry - what were you calling about again?"

"Oh yeah! Well, I'm holding a Secret Santa Gift-Exchange with a bunch of people. Everyone else picked out their slips except for you. I shouldn't look at it, in case it's me, so I'll bring it over soon, okay?"

"…O…kay…"

"Oh, and if it is me, you should get me one of those gift cards for the burger place 'cause we go there all the time. Isn't that a good idea, Nick?"

"Yeah…sure…look, Maya, I've gotta go. When can I expect you here?"

"Um…how about six-ish? A little before dinnertime!"

Phoenix looked at the forlorn clock nailed to his wall. It was four-fifteen now, and that gave him plenty of time to rest up for when she came. "Sounds good."

"Can I bring Pearly along?"

"By all means."

"Okay, see you then, Nick!"

"Bye, Maya."

He hung up, slipping the phone back into his pants pocket reluctantly. Still a little dazed from being interrupted - _again_ - Phoenix settled back onto his couch, pensively pressing a finger to his lips. He wondered what Edgeworth was doing right now…


	3. Results May Vary

At that very moment, Miles Edgeworth was driving back to his apartment in his red-hot sports car, listening to a selection of classical music. However, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he could not stop thinking about his conversation with Wright earlier that morning.

"_All's fair in love and war."_

"_But this is neither!"_

He had attempted to gauge Phoenix's reaction as best he could, but had yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion. He sighed wearily. How was he to express his emotions towards the defense attorney without embarrassing himself in the process? What if Wright did not reciprocate his affections? It wouldn't be the end of the world, would it? No, certainly not…but it would permanently ruin him if anything got out. He could see the headlines now: "Demon Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Steps Out of the Closet for Phoenix Wright - Ace Attorney Mortified!"

His brow runkling in a frown, Edgeworth ran a hand through his silver hair. Damn it, this was so difficult. It hadn't bolstered his confidence when Maya Fey approached him with a hat of names in her hands, either. And of all people, he had chosen Wright. Now he had to get the brunette a Christmas present. Not exactly the most sociable creature, Miles Edgeworth sequestered himself away from large parties and gatherings, especially over the holidays. His one mistake this Christmas season had been not buying a plane ticket to Germany quickly enough - every flight out of the country was booked solid.

He stopped at a red light, anxiously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. What did Wright like? Was there anything else besides grape juice and a kids' television series? Wait a minute - he had made that little slip of the tongue at the café…

"_I like y- I mean, _fighting_ against you in court…"_

…Then again, it couldn't be taken as solid evidence. It might have just…been a mistake. Edgeworth could never really tell with Phoenix - when he stuttered, though, it was very cute. Miles allowed a small smile to play across his face. He had to find something exceptionally good for Phoenix's Christmas gift.

Phoenix was snoring loudly by the time that a rapping knock sounded through the living room. He twitched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and easing himself from the sofa. Glancing at the clock, he took a few embarrassingly long moments to register the time. It was six o'clock, exactly. Trudging to the door, he opened it slowly and looked down at the two girls, blinking owlishly. Pearls was the first to bombard him, leaping forth and hugging his torso. "Nick!" She squeaked, and he patted her head absently in response. Maya was grinning widely, in an almost Cheshire-Cat-like fashion. It was very unnerving.

"Here's your slip, Nick."

She held out the piece of paper and he took it warily. She hadn't looked at it, had she? Was that why she was smiling? Knowing Maya, he wouldn't put it past her.

"Aren't you gonna look at it?" The channeller inquired pointedly, to which Phoenix gave her a reproachful stare.

"Later."

"Mystic Maya, Nick! I'm hungry!" Pearl exclaimed, bouncing up and down. "Let's go get something to eat!"

The defense attorney raised an eyebrow at Maya, who shrugged and echoed the thoughts. "My sentiments exactly!" She replied; a slight frown marred her features as Phoenix tucked the slip of paper into his pants pocket. Putting on a good face, Phoenix Wright disentangled himself from Pearl's grasp long enough to retrieve his scarf and pat his wallet with little reassurance. It had been lighter than usual, lately. He smiled warmly down at Pearl, and suggested that they leave for their traditional burger place. The proposition was accepted wholeheartedly, and they set off for one of the few venues that Phoenix could safely afford.

Around ten burgers and three large sodas later, Phoenix's confusion about that morning was sufficiently drowned in Grape-flavoured Fanta. The carbonation continued to bubble in his nose and he sneezed in response, receiving a 'Bless you!' from Pearls. Patting her head with a grin, he saw the two girls off down the road, waving avidly to them despite troubled financial status. He couldn't be mad at Maya – she just had a healthy appetite. With a half-hearted sigh, he turned to go back to his apartment. Once inside, he locked the door behind him. Though he hadn't let it show, Phoenix had been dying to unfold his slip of paper to see who was written on it. The curiosity had been eating away at him. Licking his lips in nervousness, Phoenix Wright nearly dropped the paper onto the floor – why were his hands shaking? Was he hoping it was someone in particular?

_Edgeworth?_

No, probably not. Miles Edgeworth was most likely on a plane back to Germany right now, the lucky bastard. Exhaling, he unfolded it eyes closed, and set it on the kitchen counter. Squinting at it, he couldn't quite make out the words through half-lidded eyes. It was a long name, though. Not Maya or Pearl or Maggey or Larry or Gumshoe…

Phoenix gritted his teeth and looked at it fully. The name on the sheet hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks. Written in Maya Fey's loopy script was the elegant, refined title:

_Miles Edgeworth_

He felt like a professional boxer had just punched him in the stomach without letting him tense himself first. All the air fled his lungs, and after a good ten seconds he inhaled deeply again – the blood rushed to his brain and left him feeling light-headed. Phoenix had to steady himself on the Formica counter, leaning over that damned slip of paper. A long breath of air escaped him, sending the sheet floating gently to the floor.

_Damn it._

He clutched his head in his hands, looking for all the world as though he was sobbing desperately into the fake-marble counter. A bitter laugh emitted from his lips, and he held his sides - they were shaking with silent mirth. Of all the pieces of paper in the hat, Phoenix had gotten the last one, and it had to be _him_. "Fuck…" He muttered acidly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. God _damn_ it."

Why him? Why did it have to be _him_, of all people? No wonder Maya had looked so smug…thinking that the two men liked each other in that way. She needed to stop reading all of those - what were they called? - _yaoi_ mangas when they visited the bookstore. He had taken one look over her shoulder as she indulged herself before, and found himself disgusted. It wasn't…natural. In vain had Maya protested that the characters were in love, and that it was meant to be, but it still didn't wipe away the graphic image of two guys having sex. It _had_ to hurt. The mere thought made Phoenix cringe. Coughing feebly onto the counter, he chanced a glance up at the Steel Samurai calendar taped to the front of his fridge. Two days until Christmas. He had two days to get Miles Edgeworth a gift.

What the _fuck_ did he like, anyway?


	4. Shopping the Wright Way

**Note:** Hokay, so...being new to this 'fanfiction submitting thang', I forgot to mention something dreadfully, painfully important in my very first chapter. This fanfiction was written for a very good friend of mine named Gina. I'm going off to college soon, and will miss her dearly, since she is one of the best friends I have ever had. That, and I blame her for getting me addicted to Phoenix Wright. Love you, Gina. 3

--

Edgeworth idly browsed the packed aisles of the local comic book store, looking as much out of place amongst the be-spectacled nerds as a wolf in the middle of a flock of sheep. Then again, he _was_ still in his work clothes. He had finally decided – after much deliberation – that a care package filled with a myriad of Phoenix's well-liked items would be suitable enough. He acquired a bottle of sparkling grape juice from the grocery store, and was at present looking for something nostalgic that would re-awaken the little kid side of the defense attorney.

Meandering past a row stocked with Wonder Woman and Superman comics, he paused by the glass counter at the back of the store. A series of action figures decked the shelves behind the pimply clerk, who was leafing absently through an old edition of Spiderman. One figure in particular caught his eye – a Steel Samurai figurine, painted well enough to look like real skin and cloth. Leaning pointedly onto the counter, he raised an eyebrow at the cashier - the nametag read:

HI, MY NAME IS:

**LEROY JENKINS**

"How much for the Steel Samurai action figure, Leroy?" He inquired good-naturedly, giving his best 'I'm a social-person' smile. The teenage clerk looked up, mouth open. "It's – uh – it's kinda expensive."

"Most nice things are, but the price means nothing to me."

"Oh. Uh – lemme check with the boss. He keeps the prices of the rare collectable figures in the back. D'you mind holdin' on for a minute?"

"Not at all."

"'Kay. I'll be back, sir."

_Sir_. He hadn't really been referred to as a 'sir' before. It made him feel…old. No, he was only twenty-seven. Not that old at all. Not even over the hill. Sighing, he leaned heavily onto the glass case, peering down at its contents. An absurd amount of video game and comic book paraphernalia stared back up at him, including a plushy mushroom with wide, shiny eyes. He felt as though the fungus was accusing him of something, and quickly averted his gaze to the returning cashier.

"Uh, it's like ninety-nine bucks, sir," The youth stated, returning his vacant eyes to the older man in the magenta suit.

"Do you take credit?"

"Yeah."

"Good - here you are," Miles Edgeworth shoved a hand into his pocket, withdrawing his wallet and handing his MasterCard to the clerk. It slid through the machine, registered, and he signed for his purchase. Expression still vapid, the cashier returned the credit card and removed the figurine from the shelf, taping the ends of the box shut methodically and placing it in a plastic bag. Carefully, as though he were handling the Holy Grail, Leroy passed the bag to the man in the pink suit.

"Will you be needing anything else, sir?"

Miles Edgeworth took the bag with curt efficiency, shaking his head to the last inquiry. "No, thank y- Actually, I'd like to get that, too."

He pointed to the fluffy red-and-white mushroom with black button eyes. Shrugging indifferently, Leroy leaned down, unlocked the case, and set the mushroom on the counter. A few moments of adjusting the former receipt to accommodate the new purchase, and the plush fungus was Edgeworth's. Stuffing the doll into his plastic bag, he gave the cashier a sheepish smile and hurriedly left the comic book store.

Back in his apartment, he busied himself with arranging Phoenix's gift in a wicker basket. Cliché, yes, but putting a bottle of carbonated grape juice into a box with the potential of it being jostled was too hazardous. The Steel Samurai figurine had been placed in the basket as well, along with a bookstore gift card. He couldn't think of anything else to add. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Edgeworth slumped onto his table and stared across it at the mushroom plushy he had bought an hour earlier. It looked at him blankly.

"What?!"

He demanded, frowning at it. Its cheery red-and-white colour scheme was really starting to irk him, as well as the critical vibe it emanated. It was judging him, he just _knew_ it. Running a hand through his silver hair, his scowl deepened. It was making fun of his gift for Phoenix.

"Oh, so you've got a better idea, then?" Miles asked, jabbing his finger towards the mushroom. There was no response. Somewhat more aggravated, the prosecutor sat up in his chair, intent on staring down the 1-UP plush. It did nothing in retaliation.

"Well, you can just lump it, you stupid piece of fungi." He muttered angrily, a look of pure loathing plastered on his face. So ingrained was he in his mental debate with the mushroom that he nearly had a heart attack when his cell phone rang. Continuing to glare at the perky stuffed vegetable across the table, he answered the caller with a grunting tone.

"Hello?"

The other line was clear and brisk - a voice he recognized all too well.

"Hi. Miles, it's me, Phoenix."

The defense attorney was causing him far too much pain these days. Grumbling, he replied gruffly, "Hello, Wright."

"Are you okay, Miles? You don't sound very well." There was an obvious touch of concern in the other man's voice, and Edgeworth tried to ignore it.

"I'm fine," He spat. "It's this damn mushroom. I swear to _God_, Wright, it's staring at me like I killed its family or something. Accusing me of something I haven't even _done_."

"Mushroom? What are you talking about, Miles? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, whatever. I'm fine. What do you want?" He said this with unintentional acidity, bitterness creeping into his speech.

"I…I was just…wondering what you like. I can call back later, Miles."

He realized almost too late the harsh quality that he had attained, and quickly attempted to remedy it. "No - really, please don't. I'm sorry, Wright. I'm just…stressed, that's all. A little stressed. I'm sorry."

Phoenix replied hesitantly, "Oh…okay."

"What was it you wanted to ask me?" Miles inquired conversationally, cupping the elbow of the arm supporting his cell-phone.

"What you asked me this morning. What do you like?"

Edgeworth scoured his mind for something that didn't begin with 'Phoenix' and end with 'Wright'. Not feeling particularly divulging enough to admit that he knew also every line to every Steel Samurai episode, Miles rubbed his temple with his forefinger. "Tea." He replied simply, feeling as though his answer was exceedingly anti-climactic. On the other line, Wright sounded as though a slight frown was crossing his face,

"That's it?"

"Yes, Wright. I like tea. Black tea in the morning, green tea in the evening. Lemon tea when I'm sick. Ginseng tea when I'm tired. Pear tea in the spring. Strawberry tea in summer. White tea in the fall. Peppermint tea in the winter. I like tea."

The response was less than enthusiastic. "…Anything else?"

"No."

"Oh," Wright sounded disappointed, and immediately Edgeworth regretted the matter-of-fact tone that he had taken in the conversation. There was nothing he could do to fix that, though, particularly since the two of them weren't speaking face-to-face.

"Any other questions, Wright?" Miles inquired, examining his flawless cuticles with slight disinterest.

"Uh…No. Thanks, Miles. 'Bye." The defense attorney hung up, leaving Miles Edgeworth alone once more with his new roommate. He slid his-cell phone back into his pocket, giving the mushroom an annoyed sneer. "Well, that could've gone better, couldn't it?"

The mushroom did not reply.

Phoenix stared at his phone for a moment before dropping it back on the counter. So Miles liked tea. Well, at least he had narrowed down his list of probable likes into one category. Right. So…it was winter. Peppermint tea, correct? It was a safe gift, though Phoenix imagined that Miles already had stockpiles of peppermint tea for the colder months. This gift required an excursion to Teavana.

The mall was packed, filled with last-minute shoppers like himself hurrying to buy presents for the people they had forgotten until now. The woman at the counter was less than helpful.

"Look, um, I need to get something new and interesting for a friend of mine. He likes tea, all different kinds. Are there any you'd recommend? Like, new ones? Nothing peppermint, he already has a lot of that. Nothing too expensive, either - my budget isn't that wide." The defense attorney looked pleadingly at the girl in the smock, who raised her eyebrow. "Look, buddy, I'm on my break," She retorted, smacking her gum noisily. Withholding the urge to object loudly in the middle of the store, Phoenix turned to the cashier. The young man smiled widely and asked him to wait a moment while he finished up with another customer. Knowing that there was nothing else he could do, Wright maundered aimlessly around the shop until the boy caught up with him.

Relieved to find someone willing to listen to his dilemma, Phoenix explained his problem. "Okay, so, I have a friend who likes tea a lot. He gets most of his teas from different countries, and has tried a whole bunch, so I don't know what to get him for Christmas. All he does is drink tea, and I'm not sure if there are any types he hasn't tried. Do you have anything new?" He begged, eyes wide and worried. The young man laughed, "You must be talking about Mr. Edgeworth, sir. He frequents the store every so often to try our newest flavours."

Wright was stunned, "You know Miles Edgeworth?" The youth shook his head, "Not well, sir, but he comes here a lot to buy his favourites and sample the new leaves."

"What's the newest thing that he hasn't tried?" Phoenix demanded, suddenly motivated.

The employee thought for a moment. "We got in a shipment of new leaves that I mixed into a popular flavour. Most people seem to enjoy it during the winter months, so it's selling really fast."

The defense attorney had brightened, seeing hope at the end of his tunnel. "What's it called?"

"Jasmine Dragon Phoenix Pearl."

The irony was stifling. Phoenix felt the edges of his lips quirk in a smile. "I'll take a good few ounces of it, please."

The young man beamed, and they headed to the register to measure the proper amount. Once the purchase was bagged and handed over the counter, Phoenix leaned forward conspiratorially. "If Miles Edgeworth comes in here, don't let him try this tea or buy it. It has to be a complete secret, got it?" The Teavana employee nodded gravely, drawing his fingers across his mouth. "My lips are sealed, sir. You can count on me."

"Great, thanks!" Wright declared, straightening up and adjusting his grip on the bag of tea leaves. With a grateful smile and a short wave, the defense attorney ducked back into the throng of Christmas shoppers, eager to get home.


End file.
